


Never Really Over

by InTheName



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emma's in a band, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-20 09:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20673242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheName/pseuds/InTheName
Summary: Emma doesn't run from her demons. She embraces them, holds them close to her heart and turns them into music beautiful in ways her past wasn't.When Emma gets the opportunity of a lifetime, to open for a famous musician's national tour, her demons are right there with her, making her question her place in the family she's built. Whose voice will sing louder?





	Never Really Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariestess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/gifts).
  * Inspired by [never really over](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390341) by [A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter). 

> Thank you so much to the SQSN mods for putting on this event, and thank you to ariestess for the wonderful fanmix that inspired this fic! 
> 
> Big shout out to soundslikehope who provided infinite support and encouragement, and helped me work through plot holes and hills alike. Another shoutout to theforgottenpromises for the moral support throughout this process. Thank you friends!

Emma Swan had never been able to describe the feeling she got when she stepped out on stage to bright lights and held breaths. It had started when she’d been seven years old and sang a solo in her second grade Christmas show performance. She hadn’t tried to look through the blinding spotlight for her foster parents – she didn’t wonder whether they’d bothered to show up at all. Instead, she’d let that light seep into her skin and fill her whole body until she was light and free and _seen_. She’d chased that weightlessness to talent shows, community center art shows, and into a rock band with her two closest friends, Ruby and Mulan.

Tonight, with the only people she trusted in this world at her side, Emma let the lyrics soar from her soul and into the mic. She prayed that when they reached the audience’s ears, they’d hold all the passion, anger and heartache she’d infused into them all those longs nights practicing in Ruby’s grandmother’s garage.

_Maybe there’s nothing left to do_

A flash of trees blurring in the peripheries as her former self ran away from foster home number seven, aching to leave the hurt behind with it.

_To love is to fall, you see_

Hazel eyes and a warm smile, masking the pain of a kindred soul.

_I’ll fall slowly into you_

The euphoria of a first love. A lifeline, connecting her to another human being. A beacon of hope. A sign that maybe she was finally doing something right here on this earth.

_And slowly out of me_

Or at least a distraction from the loneliness that echoed and lingered. A way out.

The last note was met with applause, bringing Emma back to the present. Back to the stage in a dive bar, interchangeable with the last ten venues, with her irreplaceable bandmates. Emma smiled at Ruby as she hit the final chord on the bass, then turned to look over at Mulan at the drums. Her friends mirrored her wide grin, the three of them sharing in one euphoria, one experience. In this moment, they were not individuals. Emma looked back out at the audience and saw they too were in this collective. At once Emma was surrounded entirely by her own feelings and by this room of strangers connected by a basic tenant of humanity: love, loss, heartache.

“Thank you all for coming out.” Emma barely whispered into the mic, but it was picked up, the awestruck words fluttered through the haze of smoke and substances it carried, descending slowly among the crowd. Emma tried to pick out individuals among the masses gathered near the stage, but they were tightly packed in the tiny bar and the lights made their faces fuzzy at the edges. Or perhaps that had been Emma’s earlier indulgence, the little kick she’d needed to get her started for tonight’s set.   


Emma closed her eyes, let the applause wash over her a moment longer. She never wanted this moment to end. The night would be all downhill from here.

“Hey.”

Emma was startled out of her reverie, she jumped in place. She looked around, the crowd had dispersed, Mulan and Ruby had packed up and left the stage. How long had she been standing there? Had any time passed at all? Did time ever pass? She certainly felt the same.

Her eyes landed on the woman beside her, darting past piercing brown eyes, careful not to get tangled in the mess of curls, and finding the glass outstretched toward her.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

And that smile was blinding.

Emma blinked.

It felt like staring directly into the stage lights. Well, almost. Emma had never felt _attracted _to the stage lights. So, there was one difference.

“Thanks.” Emma found her words, took the offered beverage. It tasted of alcohol and not much else. Emma sighed.

“You played well tonight. Good set.” The woman said, as if commenting on the weather.

“Um, how did you,” Emma gestured to the stage around them with her free hand. “The security guys are normally pretty on top of keeping fans off the stage.” Emma looked over the woman’s shoulder, clad in a sharp leather jacket despite the heat that came with tightly packed gigs, to see what Gary was doing. He looked that same as usual, attentive and stoic, as if he hadn’t just let a rogue fan sneak on stage.

“Relax. I’m the bartender.” Her smile settled into a smirk and Emma’s understanding brought with it a dusting of pink to her cheeks. The woman held out a hand. “Regina. Nice to meet you.”

Emma shook her hand dumbly. Softly. Or rather, her hands were soft. Regina’s hand. The one still held in hers. Emma looked down at them.

“Emma. Nice to meet you, Regina.”

Regina ducked her head slightly, making eye contact where Emma’s world had dwindled to encompass only their linked hands.

“You okay?” Her eyes were soft, the edges creased ever so slightly. Kind, Emma thought. Like her mother’s weren’t.

“That’s a loaded question.” Emma laughed. Regina pressed her lips together and nodded.

“You want to get out of here?” Regina’s eyes sparkled, Emma couldn’t look away if she tried.

“Desperately.”

Regina pulled her closer with the hand still in hers, and led her off the stage, through the crowd and out the back door. Emma didn’t ask where they were headed, the street names blurred until they were at a door. A solid wood door. Sturdy, Emma thought.

“This is me.” Regina said as she fumbled with getting the key in the lock. Emma’s eyes traced the curve of her spine, past where the leather jacket ended and the red dress began. Suddenly, Regina was gone and Emma was staring at an empty space. An open door. She looked up. Regina was waiting, one eyebrow arched. “Are you going to come in?”

“I’d like to.” Emma said, but didn’t move.

“I’d like it if you did,” Regina said in a low voice, it rang in Emma’s ears as a purr. She felt her feet move, and she walked in.

Regina closed the door behind her. Locked the deadbolt and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off her. Couldn’t take her hands off her. Emma was suddenly so close, one hand brushing against Regina’s neck and the other at the waist of that red dress. Regina inhaled sharply, her eyes darkened. Emma leaned in.

Regina’s lips were soft against her own. Those soft lips parted and Regina let out a sigh. Emma dived in, a swan dive, diving underwater, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She felt the water pressing in around her, Regina’s body pressed against hers and she grounded herself in this moment, in this woman, her fingers making roots in brown curls. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape the weight of the water surrounding her but she could surround herself in this moment.

Regina’s hands came up and twined around Emma’s wrists. They felt like a caress, rather than the cuffs of hands that had come before them. Regina’s hands pulled her own away.

“Not tonight.” Regina whispered. Emma’s heart stopped in its cage. “Let me make you some tea.”

“Do you have coffee?” Emma asked, voice small.

“Coffee? At this hour?” Regina let out a laugh that seemed to surprise them both. Emma likened her laugh to windchimes breaking through the silence at the onset of a light breeze. It seemed so out of place coming from deep red lips that warned of danger. Beware, all ye who enter. 

Regina took her hand and gave a smile. Radiant. Given so readily. Emma was envious of the generosity, of the ease of giving oneself without a thought. Though, Emma rarely gave thought to giving herself over to others. But this smile had an intimacy Emma hadn’t known in years. One she certainly hadn’t known how to share. Emma smiled back, and it didn’t feel cracking a marble face.

Regina led her to the kitchen.

Perhaps Emma had been wrong. Maybe the night hadn’t gone downhill at all.

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

Emma groaned. Big brown eyes stared at her from the high chair across from her. She put the spoon down on the tray, letting the smashed peas slide off. Henry blew a raspberry after her.

“You know I hate it when you do that.” Emma grimaced.

“Yes, I remember that any semblance of the mundane makes you shrink in your skin to get away.” Regina laughed. She set down her briefcase and walked over to give Henry a kiss on his cheek. His face lit up. Regina was far lovelier than smashed peas, Emma agreed.

Regina turned her focus to Emma, leaned in for a kiss. Emma felt calm, serene. It was like the night they’d first met, though Emma hadn’t had any recreational drugs this time around.

“I missed you,” Emma breathed without meaning to.

“How was your day?” Regina answered, recognizing the need in her voice.

“It was good.” Emma said, her throat tightening around the words as she tried to believe them. “It was fine.” If her voice broke, well, Regina was polite enough not to mention it.

Regina crouched in front of where Emma sat on the couch. She took Emma’s face in both her hands. Tears traced the outline of her fingers. Regina pressed her forehead to Emma’s.

“He’ll warm up to you. Just like I did. He just needs time.” Regina said softly.

Emma turned away as far as she could while remaining in Regina’s embrace.

“You liked me right away.” Emma pointed out. Regina hadn’t needed warming up, she’d been warm from the moment they’d locked eyes. Warm. Willing. Hot. Bothered. Regina had needed her. It wasn’t the same.

At that moment, Henry started crying again. For what felt like the hundredth time that day. Though, the days had long since blurred. Regina got up from her crouch and went to soothe the wailing child.

“There’s my baby boy.” Regina cooed. She bounced lightly as she held him against her hip. Henry quieted right down. “Did you have a good day today? Hm? Let me tell you how Mommy saved a powerful old man a lot of money. A lot of money he doesn’t need, because he has so much of it already. Yes he does!”

Regina had nailed the baby voice in the early days with Henry. No matter what technical, lawyer speak came out, Henry would babble back. Now, he was starting to string sentences together. A little late, but his case worker had said that was to be expected.

Regina started humming a tune Emma didn’t know, and started dancing around the living room. She twirled and bounced around in her dress pants and heels and a toddler on her hip. And she was gorgeous.

It was so normal. It was everything Emma had hoped her new foster homes would be, but never were.

She felt happiness at the edge of her fingertips. So close, completely in sight. And she reached. Oh, she reached.

***

“It’s not supposed to be this hard.”

Mulan looked at her with wide, serious eyes from across the table at their favourite coffee shop. They’d come here to have caffeine-fueled brainstorming sessions to hammer out lyrics many times over the years. That wasn’t what brought them here today.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I’ve tried everything the books and blogs have to say about adopting children, it’s just so hard to keep it all straight! Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a mom.” Emma felt the words spill out faster than she could think them. The truth was outrunning her, knowing if she could catch up she would never be this vulnerable. It was too much. And nothing she did made any difference. Henry hated her. Regina barely had time for her, between her long hours at the law firm and taking the role of number one mom. It was all too much.

Mulan put a hand over top of hers, grounding her, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts for a brief moment.

“No, Emma. I don’t mean parenting. I’ve seen you with Henry, you are capable of being a great mom. I’ve already seen it. No, I mean, coping. It shouldn’t all _feel _this hard.”

Emma felt the tears rebel against her and fall out of line, down her cheeks.

“I’m seeing you making choices that are closing yourself off from those of us who love you. Ruby, Me. Regina. We love you. And we want you to give yourself your best chance.”

Emma closed her eyes, felt her throat constrict. Felt a squeeze of her fingers before Mulan replaced her hand with a business card.

“Just,” Mulan took a breath. “Call him. He really helped me when I was struggling. I know the path you’re going down, Emma. I’ve walked it. Trust me, you don’t want to go where that path leads.”

Emma stared down at the card, holding it carefully in two hands as if it might break if she pressed too hard. Mulan got up and pressed a light kiss to her cheek.

“Think about it.”

Emma didn’t look up. Stayed staring at that little white card long after she’d left.

_Archie Hopper, MD._

***

“Emma! It didn’t mean anything! It doesn’t. Don’t leave.”

Regina’s eyes were wide, caught in the spotlight. No, caught in headlights. Her cheeks were going red.

Emma stopped. Grabbed her coat. Kept walking out the door. She felt a hand on her wrist. Not a caress this time. Too tight, demanding. She ripped her arm away, broke free easily. This time. She walked out the door.

She didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she couldn’t be there in that room anymore. Those words hung in the air and it was suffocating.

Why was she making such a big deal out of this?

It was nothing. It was everything.

_Mommy, _he’d said.

And it wasn’t her.

It was never her.

She didn’t fit into this family. She never had. She’d just been pretending, just making herself useful and trying to make herself fit where she was too jagged, too broken.

She opened her car door. Found the pills in her glove compartment.

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to feel.

She just needed space. From that room. From her thoughts.

She walked around to the backyard. She didn’t go far. But a couple of those pills and she’d be miles away.

Soon.

Later. Much later. There was a blanket around her shoulders and a warm body behind her, a hand stroking her hair.

“Emma, please.” Regina was crying. “We can’t keep on like this.”

No, she supposed they couldn’t. Emma curled up into her wife, and let herself cry too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh, dear.” Regina soothed. It wasn’t fair of Emma to make her wife take care of her when they had a young child that needed everything they had. She knew that.

Together, they stared at the stars and let the tears fall.

***

The fluorescent light reminded Emma of the principal offices that had been the only constant in a lineup of rotating schools. Encased in a plastic rectangle with purposefully warped edges, the light flickered. Emma had tried to hold onto the sliver of hope that had fueled her until she’d arrived at Dr. Hopper’s office door. The hope that maybe, finally, this would help. That she’d get all fixed up and walk through life unbroken. But then she had to knock. And it knocked the wind out of her.

“Emma Swan?”

The door had opened and in the doorway stood an ordinary man. Not seeming to warrant the levels of intimidation Emma was feeling. His hair was curly, his glasses round. Everything about him screamed non-threatening.

Emma nodded.

“Why don’t you come in and sit down?” Dr. Hopper smiled and stepped to the side.

Emma nodded. And took a seat.

“So, tell me Emma. What brings you here today?” Dr. Hopper sat back in his chair, relaxed. Trying to emit a sense of security, of openness. Well, it wasn’t not working.

Emma opened her mouth to answer. But nothing came out. She tried to start with how she was cocooned in plastic wrap, separated from her family in plain sight, paralyzed, prevented from engaging. Or maybe she should start with her history, a rolodex of foster families and hands that held too tight.

She felt the room constricting in around her and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, trying to keep some semblance of her own space. She opened her mouth once more but words failed her.

Her tear ducts also failed her, it seemed, since droplets of saltwater were making rivers down her neck. Emma shivered. No, she was shaking.

“Take your time.” Dr. Hopper remained relaxed, as if he didn’t have a crying stranger in his office, unable to speak.

“I,” Emma squeaked out. She cleared her throat. She could do this. She just needed to tell him why she was here. Simple. “My son, he called my wife ‘mommy’ the other day.”

And so it started. One sentence became a myriad of partial phrases, memories, and feelings. She let loose, ran her mouth and let out the secrets she’d been holding for so long. The distance, the inability to connect to anything but her music, and even then it came with the help of the pills, or a shot of whisky. It came out in a blur; it was a wonder Dr. Hopper could keep track of it all.

“I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have come,” Emma trailed off. She suddenly felt like a fraud, sitting here in this plush chair, meant for those who really needed Dr. Hopper’s help. She averted her gaze, staring at a plant on the window sill. It was green, with perky leaves. Healthy. Emma sighed.

“I think choosing to come here today was the best thing you’ve done for yourself in a long time, Emma.”

***

The bottle looked like any other prescription, an orange bottle with the white label spelling out words that might as well be an unknown language for all the meaning they held. Emma held it carefully, more cautious in her movements to her car from the pharmacy counter. This could be it. These little pills, they held answers, or comfort, or maybe calm? It was a big ask, of these little green pills. They didn’t look much different than the ones she kept in a bag in her glove compartment, for when she needed something she couldn’t articulate. But these were good, supposedly. And those were bad, they say.

Dr. Hopper’s voice rang in her ears.

_Anxiety._

_Depression._

_SSRIs._

The words rang hollow in her head. There was nothing else. She could hardly remember what she had said, what she had shared. She felt empty. Like she’d left parts of herself in those four white walls. Like she’d traded herself in for a new model—or rather, the promise of one—and now was left without herself. Emma blinked and prayed she wouldn’t start crying again here in her car. She rested her head on her steering wheel.

She had to pull herself together.

She didn’t want Regina to see her like this. She didn’t want Henry to think his, well, his guardian was unstable. No. She was getting help. She was turning things around. Soon, things wouldn’t be this hard.

Emma inhaled a shaky breath, and started the ignition. She drove carefully, slower than her usual pace. She focused on the cars, on the streets and lights. Anything to fill this emptiness sitting heavy in her chest.

It wasn’t long before she was steeling herself in her driveway.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She put the pills back in their bag, as if she could keep them a secret if the label was obscured. Maybe for a few more minutes.

“Honey, I’m home.” Emma called, as she walked through the front door. Laughter greeted her, high pitched squeals and a low chuckle in harmony. She felt nearly warmed.

“So it’s only okay when you say it, huh?” Regina teased. Her tone was light but her eyes were wary, scoping out markers of distress she’d become so familiar with these past five years. Emma forced a smile.

“Maybe I could use a bit more mundane in my life,” Emma joked. She even laughed. Someone who was depressed wouldn’t be able to do that, would they? See, she could fake it, until she made it. And the antidepressants stuffed into the bottom of her purse would help her get there.

Emma started taking her jacket off but Regina drew her into a hug mid-way through. Emma couldn’t move her arms to hug her back, but Regina held on tight.  


“I’m so proud of you, dear.” She whispered. Emma’s throat spasmed, tightened with the threat of fresh tears. She shrugged.

“It was the least I could do,” Emma murmured.

“We both know that’s not true.” Regina answered. She made no move to lessen her grip. “It took a lot and I am so proud of you and I love you and I’m here for you.”

“I’m,” Emma had to clear her throat of the blockage that had arisen from the weight of it all. “I’m going to bathe Henry tonight.”

“Yes, of course.” Regina pulled back, smile radiant, eyes wet. Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d volunteered to be the one who led Henry’s nighttime routine. Usually, she was so frustrated with herself by the time Regina got home and would pass off the responsibilities just to feel a little lighter. Or she’d cite band practice. Either way, she was sure Regina saw through her excuses and was worried. Emma always seemed to manage to be the source of her wife’s worry.

“Come on kid, let’s get you clean,” Emma gave a better attempt at a smile. Henry deserved more than a half-assed grin, than a half-assed mom. She walked over and surrounded Henry’s tiny frame in a huge hug, the kind she’d longed for as a child. The kind she gave readily, frequently, as an adult. As a mom. Guardian. Whatever.

Henry had always liked bath time. From the day he’d come home with them, six months ago. He’d been so quiet, so cautious, until the sight of the bath and their collection of bath toys to play with. His eyes had lit right up and they had trouble convincing him it was time for bed long after the water had gone cold.

Tonight Henry chose a train engine that had most definitely not been designed to be dunked in water, but had somehow managed to find its way into the bath toy bin. It was blue-green, and happened to come with the most splashes of all the toys.

Emma watched Henry’s joyful eyes as she felt the water sink into her cotton pants, chilling her thighs. She felt the water more than she felt the joy.

Regina was smiling down at them from the doorway. Emma wondered how it was possible she couldn’t see it, that she hadn’t noticed the wall between her wife and her son. Perhaps it was hard to see, when one was on the other side.

***

Emma stared down at the lined notebook on the table in front of her. She rattled her pen against the oak wood. She’d been here for hours, and nothing was pouring from her heart to her page. If she were being honest, she’d been here for months.

“Could you maybe not?” Ruby snapped from the couch pressed against the opposite wall of the garage. She was laying horizontal, her bass in hand and staring at the ceiling. “I can’t think of a bass line with your completely off-beat tapping.”

“I haven’t heard anything from you to get thrown off.” Emma snapped back.

“Guys, come on.” Mulan sighed. “This isn’t productive.”

“Emma’s the one being unproductive.” Ruby pointed out, exasperated. She put the instrument down and sat up straight, her hair falling pin-straight past her shoulders and down her back. “If she could just _write_ something to start us off, we could actually do something with our time.”

Emma felt her cheeks flame. She felt a fire start in her chest, even as it constricted and pushed out all available oxygen. No, she hadn’t managed to write any lyrics this session. And objectively, she knew she was letting her band down. But she couldn’t muster up the energy within her to care. All her energy these days was restless, escaping her body in fidgeting limbs, and none remained accessible to tune into when it came time to write.

“Ruby, that was uncalled for.” But even Mulan sounded tired. It was the same fight they had every time Emma was supposed to take the lead on one of their song-writing sessions.

“We’re running out of time,” Ruby cried. They were. They all knew this. “Our EP needs to be ready by the end of the month if we want a shot at being considered for touring season. We can’t keep coming here and doing nothing!”

Emma stood up suddenly, her chair tipping over and falling on the floor behind her.

“No, we can’t.” Emma said, voice monotone; unfeeling and unkind. She walked out the door and didn’t look back.

It was a quick drive home, and Emma’s mind was blissfully blank. A nice change from the frustratingly blank state she’d been in every time she tried to write.

Her mind remained blank as she went through the routine on auto pilot. Kiss her wife hello, pick up Henry in an oversized hug and change into a too-big sweater. Rinse and repeat.

She sat with Henry in the living room, reading a book together – The Velveteen Rabbit, her favourite. Not her favourite from childhood, no she hadn’t had bedtime stories read to her. It was her favourite now, of the plethora of books she’d bought Henry when he’d come home with them. A rabbit so loved he became real? Yeah, Emma thought that sounded nice. Nice to no longer be a hollow imitation of a person.

_Please, love me. I’d love to be real._

If only love worked that way in real life. But there was no magic here.

“Can I get some help in here?” Regina shouted from the kitchen, cutting Emma off mid-sentence. Emma recognized that tone. She felt her stomach drop, in anticipation of being chastised, of not being enough.

“What do you need?” Emma asked. Regina was rummaging through the fridge.

“There are dishes everywhere. Is it too much to ask for some goddamned clean surfaces to cook on?” Regina shouted, muffled by the direction of her voice still geared toward the expired milk and fresh vegetables. Emma quickly grabbed two bowls she’d left out earlier. “Honestly, Emma, it’s hard enough taking care of one child in this household. Do I have to do everything around here?”

Emma dropped the bowls. There was a loud clatter and they shattered upon impact. Emma turned away, walking to the window.

“Oh, Emma.” Regina sighed, voice soft as freshly laundered cotton.

Emma felt arms wrap around her waist from behind her. Regina’s head rested on her shoulder, and her short hair tickled Emma’s exposed neck.

“I’m sorry.” Regina kissed where Emma’s neck met shoulder. “I didn’t mean it. I had a bad day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Then why did you?” Emma whispered. Regina’s embrace didn’t alleviate the hurt, hollow feeling in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Regina repeated. She started kissing along Emma’s neck, started sucking. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Emma felt no shivers, no tingles that usually were mandatory with her wife’s touch. She hadn’t for months now.

“Not tonight,” Emma breathed, unable to find the words to tell her wife she couldn’t muster up enough feelings of attraction to fake it tonight.

Regina stopped kissing, but she didn’t pull away. The compassion her wife held in her pinky finger, far greater than the compassion held in entire bodies of former foster parents, continued to astound Emma. Emma couldn’t even blame her when she lashed out after a bad day at the job she couldn’t stand. Because it seemed like Regina had infinite patience for her these days. And Emma just kept making her wait.

“You’re having a rough time adjusting.” Regina spoke the words neither had admitted these past months.

“I’ll clean that up.”

But neither Emma nor Regina moved. They simply looked out the window at the garden in the backyard. The flowers were beginning to wilt in the heat, but the sunset brought beautiful colours with it, so Emma deemed the sight acceptable. At least there was something alright tonight.

***

“I can’t do it anymore.”

“Can’t do what, Emma?” Dr. Hopper was patient as ever, having perfected a pleasant poker face. Unreactive. Unpresuming.

“The medication, I,” Emma trailed off. She looked over at the plants on the windowsill, the focal point of her sessions since that first one. They were doing well, perhaps drooping slightly on account of the cloudy weather as of late. “I can’t do it. These pills were supposed to help me feel less sad. Instead, I feel too much less, well, everything. My son smiles and I feel nothing. My wife touches me, and nothing. They were supposed to help me connect. They were supposed to bring calm, but I’m just restless.”

Emma’s leg started shaking, her heel bobbing up and down. She never used to do this. In fact, it had always annoyed her when others had. But half the time these days she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

“It sounds like the side effects you’ve been experiencing haven’t dissipated as your body adjusted to the new medication,” Dr. Hopper noted.

Emma hummed. No shit.

Literally.

“I can prescribe you a new medication, we can try something else and see if it works for you,” Dr. Hopper suggested. “These treatments, there’s always some trial and error until we can find something that works for the individual.”

“And what, I got another two months feeling like crap, dealing with new bullshit on top of all the rest?” Emma cried. “No, I, I can’t go through that. I need to get better, Dr. Hopper. I need to be better. My family needs me to be better.”

Dr. Hopper nodded.

“We can try a regimen of talk therapy. It can be just as helpful for some people who’re experiencing depression. I think that you could benefit from what we call cognitive behaviour therapy.” Dr. Hopper moved to get a pamphlet from his desk. It was pink. Emma hated pink.

_CBT, is it right for YOU?_

“I think you should take this home, read it over.” Dr. Hopper said delicately. “And I’d like to see you next week. For this to work, we’ll have to set up regular sessions. At least for a while.”

Emma looked down at the pamphlet in her hands. She shook her head slowly. Pink.

“Sure, Doc. I’ll see you next week.”

***

“Emma!”

Emma looked up, regaining her focus. Ruby was jumping up and down in place in front of her. Even Mulan seemed to be crackling with a giddy energy.

“Did you hear me?” Ruby could hardly enunciate, her smile was so wide. “That was the manager for The Band Moros. They listened to our demo, and we got it! Did you hear that? We’re booked! We’re opening for a national tour!”

Emma blinked back at them.

“C’mon Emma, this is something worth getting excited about.” Mulan prodded her shoulder. “This is big.”

Emma smiled. Really smiled.

Mulan was right, this was big.

***

“Regina?” Emma called out as she entered the house. It was Friday, which meant that Regina worked from home instead of spending the day at the office. Henry loved Fridays. “Are you home?”

“In the study,” Regina’s distant voice called out. Emma hung up her coat and toes out of her shoes quickly. She felt some of Ruby’s energy had rubbed off on her.

Emma walked into the study, a skip in her step. How… refreshing. Regina looked up from her paperwork, over the rims of the reading glasses she swore she didn’t need.

“What has you all perky?” Regina asked, her face brightening as a reflection of Emma’s own.

“We got it.” Emma breathed. It hardly felt real. It felt like she shouldn’t dare speak it aloud, lest she jinx it.

“You got it?” Regina’s voice lost all substance. “The opening slot for that tour?”

“Yes.” Emma said, letting a smile mar her face. “A national tour. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can believe it,” Regina shook her head. “I’ve known your talent from the moment you played in that dive bar I was bartending at during law school. No, I’m not surprised you guys got it.”

Emma hesitated. She set aside her own feelings and took in Regina’s features. They were still, furrowed.

“You don’t seem nearly as excited as you should be.” Emma said slowly. “This is our big break. Aren’t you happy for us?”

_For me?_

“Of course I’m happy for you,” Regina said, but she used the tone that came with hedging an argument, or breaking bad news. “I’m just, worried about the timing, is all.”

“The timing?” Emma felt her happiness stop in its tracks. Her heart slowed down and her fingers went cold.

“It’s just, you’ve been making progress with Dr. Hopper,” Regina said, looking away. “You’ve been doing better and it’s been because of the sessions. The _regular _sessions. What are you going to do if you’re away for months on end?”

“I, I” Emma stuttered. “I’ll figure it out. It will be fine. I’ll take a break if I have to. Like you said, I’m doing better. I can handle a break. I’ll figure it out. Can’t you just be happy for me?” Emma’s voice got shriller with every word. Regina rose from her desk and came around toward Emma. She took Emma’s hands in hers.

“I’m just worried it will be hard for you, on the road, without your sessions, to keep the ground you’ve covered with Dr. Hopper.” Regina said slowly. She looked into Emma’s eyes. “It’s just bad timing. And with Henry changing daycares next month…”

“This is about Henry, then?” Emma asked, ripping her hands from Regina’s grasp. “This is about losing your co-parent, your helping hand around the house?”

“Emma, come on, you know that’s not what I meant.” Regina shook her head, her tone losing that infinite patience Emma had become spoiled from. “Henry needs routine, he needs you here.”

“Do you think, down the road, Henry will remember me being gone for a few months when he was two?” Emma raised her voice. “I sure as hell don’t remember my foster home when I was two years old. He won’t even know I was gone.”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me.” Regina said, breaking her own rule. “Of course Henry will notice. He’ll be asking where his Mama is. He’ll notice you gone now, maybe not in ten years but now, he’ll notice.”

“Henry will be fine,” Emma retorted. “You’ll be fine, too. Is that what you’re worried about? Losing your co-parent?”

“Emma, we’ve been over this.” Regina rubbed her temple.

“Have we?” Emma asked, her voice sharp. The beginning of their romance flashed before her eyes. Pulling teeth to get a little vulnerability, to build a little trust. Debates of love and need and security. “Have we called this what it is? A co-existence that’s convenient for both of us, so that we don’t have to go it alone?”

“Emma, I love you.” Regina closed her eyes. Against what, Emma couldn’t say.

“You love what I can _do _for you!” Emma lost all semblance of civility. She was outright shouting. Regina never responded well to shouting matches, though she always fought to win.

“I don’t _need _you, Emma!” Regina shouted. “I love you, there’s a difference! I don’t need anyone. I’ve worked so hard not to need anyone. I choose you, every day. Even when you don’t make it easy, because, god damnit, I love you! Emma, don’t you understand that?”

_I don’t need you, Emma._

The rest fell on deaf ears. Emma couldn’t process past that first sentence. Her heart had slowed earlier, but now it downright stopped. It refused to beat. Emma’s stomach clenched and threatened to reject her earlier lunch, a sandwich that turned to bricks. Her ears rang.

_I don’t need you I don’t need you don’t need you I don’t—_

She couldn’t stay there. Why had she ever been naïve enough to think she could stay here? That should could build a family out of broken people and call it home?

She couldn’t stay there. So she left.

***  


The energy backstage was everything Emma had expected of a big shot rock band’s tour. The air crackled with electricity. This was the dream. Her dream.

_A dream. A fallacy._

It was finally happening. Here. Their big break. But Emma was miles away. In a familiar corridor, leading to a front door that was no longer hers. Ignoring the pleads of _please don’t go._

_More than what you meant to me._

This was the right decision. That was the mantra that Emma surrounded herself with daily. They didn’t need her.

_How long will you keep an empty place?_

All she’d ever be was replaceable. Emma’s eyes burned, and she blinked against the tears that threatened to surface. Not again. Not now.

_How long ‘til you wipe away every trace?_

“Emma, quit writing. Time to sing.” Mulan shook Emma out of her own head. Emma stood up and tucked her notebook away in her back pocket. She started following Mulan down the hall toward the wings to the stage, dragging her feet.

“Hey, you look like you could use something to get you going,” The other opening band was sitting at a snow-dusted table, crowded with clutter. The one who had got Emma’s attention seemed clean cut, though Emma knew looks could be deceiving. Still, Emma paused.

“Emma, are you coming?” Mulan glanced warily at the paraphernalia on the table.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll be right there.” Emma said to Mulan, who just shook her head and walked off. To the guys she said, “Sure, I’ll take a bump.”

The line was quick. Emma wrinkled her nose against the burning sensation.

“First big tour, huh?” One of the guys with long, greasy hair asked.

“Uh, yeah. This is our first time opening.” Emma said, wiping beneath her nose for any residue.

“How are you liking it?” One with a charming smile asked.

“It’s everything I ever wanted,” Emma said, her voice flat and eyes dull.

***

Emma walked into the bookstore-café, breathing in the air of nostalgia. She hadn’t been here in over a year. Not much had changed. Maybe a fresh coat of paint, an armchair replaced.

Emma placed her regular order that had long-since been forgotten by the baristas on staff. Today there was only one familiar face behind the bar, and she didn’t smile or show a spark of recognition. Though, to be fair, Emma had never really been one to make small talk, or leave an impression. She wasn’t… friendly, per se. And that was okay.

There was a spot in an old armchair by one of the windows that lined the store front. There was an end table next to it where she could put her latte. And she did. She quickly made a home out of worn-out cushions and opened her notebook.

There was a lot of nothing. A blank page. Ready and waiting.

This time, the words didn’t fight her. She honed in on that feeling she’d wanted to express. The separation from one’s soulmate. Well, if you believed in that sort of thing. Which, to be clear, Emma did not. But she did romanticize. And she wrote.

_Every part of me is also of you._

_It’s hard to excise that rose-tinted view._

Emma was about to put pen to paper once more to continue the thought, when the bell chimed, alerting the staff to a new customer and Emma’s heart to skip a beat.

She’d know that face anywhere. She saw that face everywhere.

“Regina.” Emma breathed. But it was loud enough. Regina stopped mid-stride toward the counter, her mouth dropping slightly open.

“Emma, you’re here.” Regina stated, regaining composure and walking to stand beside the armchair.

“Yeah,” Emma shrugged.

“You’re band seems to be doing well,” Regina noted. To the untrained ear, she might sound uninterested. “I heard your latest album on the radio.

Regina fixed her with a glare. Emma had the decency to look sheepish.

“I was angry.” Emma muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Clearly.” Regina retorted.

“How are you?” Emma asked. “How have you been?”

Regina looked down at Emma’s open notebook, at the scrawl she’d no doubt familiarized herself with over the years of Emma asking for her opinion on early-stage lyrics.

“I thought you’d moved beyond quoting poetry by dead men.” Regina said, voice dry, empty. She didn’t flinch at the content, didn’t react to the raw words that were about her, always about her. It had been romantic, before. Now, Emma supposed in was painful in a way that couldn’t push past her mask of indifference.

Emma looked down, furrowed her brow.

“Who?” She asked, looking back up at Regina.

“Walt Whitman.” Regina stated. Emma turned back to the page.

“Shit.” Emma muttered. She was right. Emma scratched out the only two lines on the page.

“Well, I should get going.” Regina said, shifting her weight between legs. Emma didn’t point out that she had yet to order her coffee. Dark roast, black. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, well, as close to dark circles as Regina’s skin dared get. So, probably would have been a large.

“Right.” Emma said. Regina gave a curt nod and made to leave. “Regina, wait.”

Regina stopped, looked back over her shoulder.

“I’d like to see Henry, if I could.” Emma said. She felt the sweat breakout beneath her arms. She felt her cheeks flush.

A beat passed. Two.

“I’ll think about it.” Regina said.

“Take your time,” Emma said lightly, as if the words were off-hand. “I’m sticking around.”

Regina gave a look. And it felt heavy, like it held a lot. Her eyes widened, her lips ever so slightly curved. Emma couldn’t quite name it, couldn’t be certain, but she thought maybe it was hope.

“Okay then.” And with that, Regina left the coffee shop. And Emma stayed.

***

“I’m back.” Emma stated. As if it weren’t obvious. Well, maybe it wasn’t.

“So you are.” Dr. Hopper smiled his characteristic, kind smile. “For how long?”

“For good.” Emma said. She looked down at her hands, entwined with one another and still. “I need, more than this. More than myself. I think, I think maybe I need roots.”

“Sounds like you did some reflecting while you were away.” Dr. Hopper noted.

“You could say that.” Emma said. When Dr. Hopper made no move to respond, Emma kept going. “I guess I saw the path I was on. Again. Where I was going. The price I’d have to pay.” Emma trailed off.

There had been too many sleepless nights. Too many nights she didn’t remember. Too many close calls.

“I think I’m ready.” Emma said, turning to face Dr. Hopper head on and make eye contact.

“Ready for what?” Dr. Hopper probed.

“Ready to be happy.”

***

The house was the same as Emma remembered it. Yard trimmed, garden pristine, car washed. The front door didn’t look different now that it wasn’t hers.

Emma knocked. The door opened. She wasn’t ready. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

“Emma.” Regina nodded. She stepped aside. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” Emma said. She came in and took off her jacket and shoes. Regina reached out, as if to take her coat, but Emma was already opening the closet.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Emma said, as she continued to hang up her jacket. Regina just turned on her heel and led the way to the living room. Emma felt the nerves at full force, running over her skin like wild fire, leaving anxiety in their wake.

Would Henry be happy to see her? Angry she’d left? Would he even remember her at all?

“Henry, honey, there’s someone here to see you.” Regina called. They turned the corner and there he was. He looked exactly the same, but so different. His eyes were still bright, full of life and brown irises. He was bigger, so much bigger. But his smile took up his entire face and Emma’s heart melted. Tears sprung to her eyes.

“Honey, you remember Emma.” Regina said, a bit too much hesitation to be a statement, but not enough upward lilt to be a question.

Henry shook his head. No.

Emma blinked the tears back. Swallowed past the lump in her throat. Of course he didn’t remember that. She’d known he wouldn’t. And yet, she’d hoped.

“Hey kid, it’s nice to meet you.” Emma walked over and crouched down. She extended her hand for a handshake, which Henry stared at. Then he high-fived it. Emma let out a chuckle. She sat down next to him and watched as he grabbed one of his play trains.

“So, Henry, what are your views on the Electoral College?” Emma asked, tone serious. Regina let out a snort from where she sat across the room. Emma looked up to catch Regina’s eye, a grin on her face, but Regina had opened up a newspaper from the coffee table and wasn’t watching them.

“This one’s Peter. He’s fast but he doesn’t carry people, just food. Mom says that’s important too.” Henry frowned down at the plastic train, as if he couldn’t comprehend how a train could exists without transporting people from destination A to destination B.

“Hm, well your mom’s pretty smart. So she’s probably right.” Emma muttered. She picked up a blue one. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

And so she spent an hour in her former living room, with her former family, meeting toys with pretend lives and pretend names that were all more memorable than she had been.

No, that wasn’t fair. Henry was three. He couldn’t be expected to remember someone who’d been his mother for six months before leaving for a year. It wasn’t personal, just developmental memory.

Emma pulled herself out of that rabbit hole, and back to the present.

“Hey, kid. I have to get going soon, but I think we have time to read one book together.” Emma said. “Do you have a favourite?”

“Yeah!” Henry’s eyes lit up. “It’s in my room. I can get it. It’s the velvety rabbit.”

Henry rushed out of the room as fast as his little legs could take him.

“He’s a good kid.” Emma said, turning to face Regina.

“He’s pretty great.” Regina said with a soft smile.

“How have you been?” Emma asked, low and urgent. Her eyes crinkled and her lips frowned. She was preparing for impact.

“I won’t lie to you, Emma.” Regina sighed. She put down the newspaper. “It was hard. It still is. It’s, well,” she sighed. “It’s been hard.”

Emma didn’t say she was sorry. She didn’t say she regretted leaving every day she’d been on the road. What good would that do now? Regina had no use for her apologies. She’d let her in to see Henry. Generously, she might add. She hadn’t let Emma in to be accosted with empty words and loaded questions. Still, Emma couldn’t help but ask them.

“Still working at that prestigious law firm? Goldstein & Smith?” Emma asked.

“No, actually.” Regina commented. “I’ve made a bit of a career shift. I don’t do corporate law anymore.”

“No?” Emma raised her brow. Since she’d known Regina, she’d had one focus: to become a high-performing lawyer. It was the only acceptable career path, in the eyes of her mother. And Regina had seen it as a way to gain independence – both financially and from her mother’s manipulative grasp.

“I work in immigration law now.” Regina said, a smile crossing her face. Emma beamed. “I’m helping reunite families, helping hard working people become citizens.”

“That’s wonderful, Regina.” Emma said. “That sounds like a great fit for you.”

The silence fell between them at the familiarity. At Emma’s implication that she _knew _her.

“Why did you leave?” Regina whispered. There was no smile on her face now. Emma looked away. She remained silent. There was no answer that would be enough, that would give rhyme or reason to an irrational decision to leave her family in favour of her music.

“I hope it was worth it.”

Tiny footsteps rang out down the stairs.

“I thought I was chasing my dream.” Emma said lowly. “Turns out I was running from it.”

“I found it!” Henry squealed. “The velvety rabbit!” He ran over to Emma and plopped down on the floor. He gave her the book and nestled close against her.

The Velveteen Rabbit.

Emma choked back a sob.

“There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.” Emma began. She read her favourite story. And it felt like family. Almost. If she closed her eyes. Which she did, having memorized the words long ago.

She wanted this moment to last forever. But alas, it was a children’s book and children’s tales are short. Too soon, it was time to say goodbye. Emma gave Henry a hug that meant more than he could ever know. She tried to put all her love into that one hug, but probably only succeeded in holding too hard. Henry squirmed and echoed her goodbye.

Regina walked her to the door.

“He’s a great kid, Regina.” Emma said, breaking the silence. “Thank you for letting me see him. You’ve done a great job.”

Regina just nodded. Emma turned to leave.

“Emma?” Regina called after her. “I said it was hard, and it was. But he’s worth every minute, every effort. Just…”

A breath.

“I guess, independence can get lonely.” Regina finished. Emma tried to say something, anything. But nothing came out. Regina gave a sort of grimace, nodded as if she’d asked a question and gotten an answer, and closed the door.

Emma probably should have given them to her then. Or when she’d first gotten there. It was clear Henry and Regina were doing fine without her. And she’d put them through such heartache, broadcasted her own on radios across the country. She missed them dearly. But she couldn’t ask for a second chance.

Emma took out the brown envelope with the crisp, white, legal papers that had been in her purse all afternoon. She put the envelope in the mailbox beside the door.

And with that, Emma Swan asked for a divorce.

***

The first thing Emma did when she returned to her hotel room was take off her clothes. They felt like shame. She needed the day off of her skin, where her actions had etched themselves. She needed to be clean.

The hot water of the shower nearly scalded her, but it brought her back to this moment and away from moments prior, from brown envelopes in black mailboxes. For this moment, at least, it was just her and the water.

The moment was over too soon.

Emma was clean, and her skin was protesting the prolonged exposure to the wet heat. It began to sweat and prune. So, however reluctantly, Emma turned off the spray and stepped out.

She could shower off the grime, but she still carried the day in her chest. Nestled between ribs, making it difficult to breathe.

But this was the right choice. The only choice. They couldn’t go back, Emma couldn’t ask that of them. There was only way to go: forward. Emma had meant what she’d told Dr. Hopper. She was ready, she was _so_ ready to be happy. And she couldn’t achieve that by being stagnant. She couldn’t get there if she continued to hold Regina back.

Emma put on a pair of old, grey sweatpants. They were worn, and soft, and reminded Emma of _home_. She found a cotton t-shit in her duffel bag, another cozy piece of clothing. Emma desperately craved to be surrounded completely by something comforting. Anything. If soft, warm fabrics were all she had, they’d do.

Emma was barely dressed when there was a banging on her hotel room door. She jumped, nearly tripping over her own feet as she instinctively jolted further away from the sudden sound. She wasn’t expecting anyone. The knock sounded again.

“Open up, Emma. I know you’re in there.”

Of course. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. She’d heard that voice everywhere.

Emma unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Jesus Regina, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Emma complained.

“Likewise.” Regina seethed, stalking into the room and throwing the divorce papers on the bed.

“Uh,” Emma started, but didn’t know what she could say.

“Divorce papers.” Regina spat the words out like poison. “In the mailbox. Are you kidding me?”

Emma felt the blood drain from her face.

“Is that who you are now?” Regina’s voice got louder, no longer the threatening growl she’d started with. “A coward who can’t even say to her wife’s face that she wants a divorce? I thought you were better than that. I thought you were made of more.”

Emma gulped.

“I am,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But we’ve been separated a year. It’s time, Regina. You don’t need to be tied to me anymore; you don’t need to be held back by me.”

“Held back? Is that what you think…” Regina closed her eyes, ran a hand through her hair and took a breath. When she started again, her eyes were glassy, her voice thick. “Emma, you just left. You didn’t even listen to what I had been saying. You heard what that little voice of yours has been telling you for years and you stopped listening to me. You left you just—” A sob escaped her lips. “You just left. And now, _now_ you’re just done?”

“I—,” Emma tried again. She stepped closer, reached out to place a hand on Regina’s arm but let it fall instead.

“No!” The rage returned to Regina’s voice. “You don’t get to speak right now. This time, you listen. You listen to me, Emma. I’ve been waiting, waiting for you to work through your troubles and come back to me. I’ve missed you every day. I’ve been waiting six years.”

It was Emma’s turn to sob. She hardly recognized the strangled noise coming from her throat. Her knees buckled and she sat on the bed alongside the splayed out papers that would dissolve their marriage. Tears fell onto the wrinkled sheets, smudging black ink in their wake.

“Don’t you see,” Emma choked out. “I can’t keep making you wait. I’ve put you through so much, since we met. And I can’t keep dragging you down with me.”

“I am not a woman who goes where she does not wish to, Emma.” Regina said lowly. She kneeled in front of where Emma sat on the bed. “You’ve never dragged me anywhere.”

“Regina, I don’t,” Emma hiccupped. “I can’t ask you for a second chance. Not after I walked out on my family. I swore I would never to that. I would never abandon my family the way mine abandoned me. And I turned out to be just as bad as them.”

“Emma, no.” Regina pleaded. She took Emma’s hands in hers and they were so soft. So warm. Emma’s shoulders shook with the force of another sob. “No, you came back. You came back. Don’t you see how that makes you different? You’re here. You’re trying.”

Emma nodded.

“I went back to see Dr. Hopper.” Emma whispered.

“Emma, that’s great.” Regina gave a tearful smile. “You’re taking charge of your mental health. That’s a huge step.”

“One I should have stuck to long ago,” Emma muttered. Regina brought her hands to Emma’s cheeks and tilted her head up so they’d lock eyes.

“You’re sticking to it now.” Regina said.

“Yes.” Emma answered, though it hadn’t been a question.

“Then you don’t need to ask me for another chance.” Regina said. Emma blinked. “I’m giving it freely. Please, come home.”

It was too much. Emma couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All she could do was register Regina’s warm hands catching salted tears.

“Emma, please.” Regina whispered. She moved closer. Her breath teased Emma’s lips. “Tell me this isn’t over.”

Emma’s heart broke. It cracked wide open, and she felt the love she’d been holding back pour out. It seeped into her bloodstream, carried deep into her bones and she _felt._

“This isn’t over,” Emma gasped through tears that for once weren’t spurred on by despair. She closed the distance between their lips and tried to show Regina she’d never let her go again.

“We’re not over.”

She felt it then. That indescribable feeling she got every time she’d been on stage. The feeling that she was right where she was meant to be, doing exactly what she was meant to do. The feeling of belonging somewhere.

The feeling she now knew to name.

She was home.


End file.
